


Pirates! Drabbles

by Prawnperson



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Periods, Pining, fan kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: A series of little pirate drabbles
Relationships: Pirate Captain/Pirate with a Scarf
Comments: 28
Kudos: 23





	1. If you don’t know now

**Author's Note:**

> Set between Chapter 13 and Chapter 14 of Romantics!

The Captain has just about wound down on the Mary talk now. He supposes that there’s only so much any pirate can imagine about someone you’ve been in love with for a week, and only so much of that you can put into words. The pirate with a scarf has been listening diligently, which he’s thankful for, because that usually means he hasn’t gone completely off on a tangent.

“And you definitely got the manuscript delivered?”

“Yes.”

Can’t hurt to double check, can it?

“I can’t begin to tell you, Number Two, I’m so excited!”

“Yes.”

He really is. If his plan works, which it almost definitely will, then he’ll be co-Captaining with a pretty lady soon enough. Well, maybe not entirely co-Captaining, but Mary does already seem to have the hang of not being seasick and knowing how to swim, which more than fulfils the criteria to joining the crew.

The pirate with a scarf makes a funny noise in the back of his throat, and the Captain wonders for a moment if he should ask if he’s alright before he realises how silly that is. 

“Aren’t you tired, Number Two? I’m afraid I’ve sort of trapped you here just to listen to me rambling on.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Still, come on. A sleepy first mate is a useless first mate.”

“Yes.”

When The pirate with a scarf gets up, he’s giving the Captain a particular look that seems to be rather pointed. The again, he knows that the pirate with a scarf can get pretty funny in the head when he’s tired, so he puts it down to that. 

“Goodnight, Number Two.”

“Goodnight, Captain.”

“Captain Godwin, soon. Well, no, I wouldn’t take her last name, would I? Well, I suppose I could if I wanted to. I could do what I damned well wanted to! Piracy, and all. Sorry, rambling again.”

The pirate with a scarf gives a soft chuckle, a watery smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, I suppose you could, sir.”

He says, and shuts the door behind him.

The Captain hears a muffled noise from the hallway a few seconds later and doesn’t wonder what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If there is some other way  
>  to prove that I love you  
> I swear, I don't know how  
> you'll never know   
> if you don't know now_


	2. Spying

The crew are all giggling whenever the Captain comes out of his office. He isn’t sure why, but it’s a suspicious sort of laughter, that’s for sure. 

“What’s so funny?”

There isn’t any immediate response. He hopes they haven’t been putting ink around the eyepiece of the telescope again, it took an age to get out the last time and he’s starting to get sick of it. 

“You were kissing the pirate with a scarf!”

The albino pirate shouts, grin on his face, oblivious to the pointed looks and little ‘hush’ noises a few of the other crew are directing towards him. The Captain wills himself not to fluster.

“Yes, well…why should it matter?”

He hopes to goodness the lads haven’t decided to embrace Bellamy’s mentality now. He isn’t sure he’d be prepared to handle a mutiny.

“Well, sir, we just didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The crew all start talking at once then.

“Kiss? It was more like a tonsillectomy!”

“You didn’t let him come up for air!”

“You practically bit into each other, Captain.”

For once, the Captain is certain that this is fanciful exaggeration, because the last time he tried anything like that the pirate with a scarf had sqeaked and thumped him on the chest. He wonders if he should block up the keyhole the next time he and Number Two fancy a private chat.

“It’s very rude to spy on people, you know.”

He mumbles, even though he’s certain it won’t deter them in the slightest. Maybe he’ll have to find some other way to put them off.


	3. Sideboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues on from chapter 1

The pirate with a scarf lets out a quivering sigh the moment the door to the Captain’s room shuts. He’s determined to make it back to his own room before he lets his guard down. He knows he’ll be able to if he just doesn’t think about everything that’s just transpired and everything that’s about to. If he can just stop thinking about all of that, then…then…

He makes it about halfway down the corridor before he breaks.

He presses his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the gasps that keep rising up from his throat, the knot in his chest tightening until he feels nauseous. He has to steady himself against the sideboard, too wound up to acknowledge the way the handles dig into the side of his hip. His head is starting to spin and his face feels unbearably hot, almost painful, but he can’t stop, taking in shallow, quivering breaths that do nothing to help. 

It takes a few minutes for the pirate with a scarf to realise that if he stands here for any longer, the Captain is going to step out and see what’s wrong, and that’s an entirely terrifying concept. If he wasn’t ready to talk about all of this back during the carriage ride, or the trip to London, or even before Geneva, then he certainly isn’t ready now, whenever he’s shaking so much he can hardly stand up and his nose is running and he feels as though he’s about to throw up. 

He makes his way back to his own room, climbing beneath the covers, curling up, bringing the tassels of his scarf up to chew on. It’s a filthy habit, he knows, but it brings so much comfort to him. His head is pounding, his heart aches, but he’s just so exhausted, all he wants to do is sleep. 

There’s a knock at the door. A real, distinct knock and not just wind rustling against the tapestries in the hallway. 

“Number Two?”


	4. Do not ask me questions, please let me be

Despite the sudden pang of fear it strikes in the pirate with a scarf’s heart, he knows he must answer the door. Unless the Captain’s lost the ability to hear, there’s no way he could think that the pirate with a scarf was asleep. 

When he greets him, the Captain’s brow furrows, and the pirate with a scarf realises he must look hellish. He finds himself too tired to care.

“Hello, Captain.”

“Are you alright, Number Two?”

“No, Captain.”

“Well, no, I can see that, but...are you alright, alright?”

“No.”

He hates the way his voice cracks. Hates the way his hands shake and his stomach lurches at the Captain’s own subtle movements, the way he tenses his shoulders as though steeling himself to go raid a swarming navy vessel. 

“What...what is it that’s wrong? Can I come in?”

The pirate with a scarf nods, steps aside to let the Captain in. They both sit down on the edge of the bed, awkward, tentative, the Captain with his hands folded in his lap. 

“Captain, You…I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I heard you crying.”

The bluntness of it catches the pirate with a scarf off guard, automatically drawing his shoulders up as though it will allow him to hide. He can still tell the Captain is looking at him, gazing intently. 

“Why were you crying? Is something the matter?”

“I...Captain, I...”

“You aren’t in love with Mary as well, are you?”

At that, the pirate with a scarf laughs, wavery and breathless and hollow, in total disbelief. 

“No, sir, I am not in love with...why would I be? How could I be?” 

“She’s a lovely girl.”

“Captain...”

The moonlight outside shines through the window, the curtains still not drawn, throwing long shadows over the floor. The pirate with a scarf puts a thumb to either side of the bridge of his nose, head ducked down, breathing heavily. The Captain’s concern mounts.

“Captain, I do not want you to run off with Mary. I don’t even want you to be in love with her. I know that’s selfish, but I...I cannot bear the thought of knowing you are alive and well and...not with me.”

He refuses to look up. To meet the Captain’s eyes and see all number of combinations of hurt or disgust or fear or anger. 

“Number Two, you’d still be on the boat.”

“I don’t mean with you like...Captain, why can’t you just—“

The very idea of just finally saying it, finally admitting how he feels, it’s too much, it’s always been too much, but if he doesn’t now, then he’ll never be able to.

“I’m in love with you, Captain. I love you.” 

For a moment, the whole world seems to fall silent. The pirate with a scarf doesn’t think the Captain even breathes for a few seconds. His whole body is tense, on a hair trigger, caught in the eye of a storm that’s been brewing for years. When he turns, he looks as though the ship’s just sunk with everyone on board. 

“You love me?”

“Yes.” 

He doesn’t want to start crying again, but he’s so tired it’s getting hard to fight it. 

“You never mentioned it.”

“There was never a good time.”

“Number Two, I don’t know what to do about this, so I’m going to go for a walk.” 

His voice is high, tight, the words rushed.

“Oh.”

The Captain gets up and walks towards the door like he’s been shot in the hip. 

“I’m not cross.” 

“That’s...good.” 

And then he leaves, and the pirate with a scarf can hear him pace the hall a few times, and then he’s gone.


	5. Soft of head, heart, tummy

The Captain can feel arms around his middle, crossed over his front like a particularly clingy snake, soft kisses being placed between his shoulder blades.

“Number Two...”

The pirate with a scarf mumbles something indistinct behind him, eyelashes fluttering against the nape of the Captain’s neck, feeling every breath the smaller pirate takes in the subtle movements of his chest. 

“What are you doing?”

“Squishing you. You’re like a teddy.”

He squeezes his middle as if to prove his point, smiling against his back. Despite himself, the Captain feels a little bit embarrassed about it, because it’s quite one thing to parade about naked on deck and quite another to lie in the dark in whale patterned pyjamas and have his first mate be very aware of everything about him. 

“It’s not my fault...”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I like it. I really like it.”

The Captain wonders if the pirate with a scarf is making some kind of attempt to climb inside his pyjama shirt for how close he is. 

“You’re very soft, Captain.”

“Steady on.”


	6. Putrid Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern! AU albino is 110% a HH kid

“Pirate with a scarf! Number Two! Dad!”

“Hm?”

The albino pirate comes bounding into the galley, a grin plastered on his face. 

“What is it?”

“Did you know that there was a pirate ship that got captured by the navy, and they decided to let the pirate go because their boat was full of seasick cows?”

“No, I-I didn’t.”

The lad’s eyes light up at the admission. 

“Where did you learn that?”

“Horrible Histories!”

“Is that the one with that handsome chap as Dick Turpin?”

He nods. The pirate with a scarf wonders if he has a reason for being here or if he’s just biding time between episodes.

“We used to pour tar into wounds! Oh, and we stole sugar instead of gold, and treasure maps were actually, like…really super rare!”

“I didn’t know any of that. How clever of you to have memorised it all.”

At this point, the albino pirate has clambered up to sit on the kitchen counter, helping himself to one of the neat little cubes of carrot the pirate with a scarf is cutting. He eats one as well. 

“Oh, yeah, and the Victorians? The ladies used to wear corsets so tight it squished their organs and stuff, and they would faint! Even when they were holding vases!”

“That one’s a myth, actually.”

The surprisingly curvaceous pirate says, seeming to materialise in the kitchen, presumably rummaging around for a snack. The albino pirate lets out a noise of alarm, scandalised by the mere notion of being betrayed by his own dear Horrible Histories. 

“Corsets just redistribute your body fat, doctors only protested them because they had false ideas about female hysteria, and they didn’t realise that a corset can help your posture if laced and fitted to your body type properly. The wasp-waist caricature is a result of historical propaganda and false reports. You could even do sports in them!”

She trails off a bit after that. Despite not understanding the meaning of a good two thirds of the words she just spoke, he’s still visibly cut up. 

“—But!” She cries, hastily, “All the other stuff is true!”

“It is?”

The pirate with a scarf adds a bit of backup with a decided nod of his head. The surprisingly curvaceous pirate pulls out her phone and taps in something with a frighteningly precise speed.

“I’ve got a putrid pirates comp here. You wanna come and stream it with the boys?”

All previous distress forgotten, the albino pirate beams again and hops off the counter to trot after her. The pirate with a scarf smiles to himself as he goes back to cutting carrots. From the common room a few doors down the hall, there is a jaunty snatch of accordion music followed by an ecstatic roar of approval from the rest of the pirate crew, drowning out the sketch announcer.


	7. Swooning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly little thing based on me losing my mind at the Captain’s chaise lounge in book 5

The sassy pirate comes bounding up onto the deck with his usual air of somebody whose just been told a very rude word and is determined to air his scandalised grievances about it to the whole world. 

“Just how long were you all going to wait before telling me the Captain has a chaise lounge?”

The rest of the crew are entirely unfazed by his tone, that of an irate mother demanding to know which sibling broke her best vase. The pirate with an earring rolls his eyes. He knows there will be no peace if he does not say something sharpish. 

“He’s had it for ages.”

“Why on earth would he need one of those?”

“I don’t know. Should one of us take dizzy spells or swoon or something like that, I suppose.”

A few men giggle at the idea of their chums taking a hysterical fit in front of the Pirate Captain. 

“Who’s like to faint here?”

“Jennifer!”

“Don’t be silly, she’s only ever done that once.”

Everyone begins to hum and haw over who would be most likely to get the vapours. They all agree that Mr. Darwin probably would have made use of the chaise lounge has it been on board at the same time as him. A few people suggest the sad little blond man from their adventure with communists, and the sassy pirate contends that “Him with the ringlets.” would have availed himself of its services.

“The pirate in green’s almost swooned a few times. Like in the crypt.” 

“That’s true enough.”

“Maybe the pirate with a scarf swoons, too!” 

A fresh wave of giggles pours our over the deck at the mere thought. It’s so very silly. 

“Maybe he just sits on it.”

Says the pirate in red, and everyone groans at him for being so sensible.


	8. Mugs

“Da,” 

The Captain turns towards the small source of the smaller voice, and finds Wally staring at him, pressing something into his hands. He looks down.

It’s a mug.

By the time he gets his wits about him enough to actually think how odd one of his children handing him a mug with nothing in it is, Wally has wandered out of the office. The Captain clears his throat.

“Number Two?”

“Hm?”

He holds out the mug with an expression on his face that says ‘what is this mug doing in my hand?’. 

“Oh, that’s his thing at the minute.”

“...Handing people mugs?”

“Yeah. Just put them back in the cupboard afterwards.”

“I thought he read. Is that where all our mugs have been going?” 

The pirate with a scarf nods, apparently quite comfortable with the idea of an endless cycle of bringing crockery back to its proper habitat.   
There’s a small cough from somewhere, and when they look to the source, Wally is back. He hands the pirate with a scarf something.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

He smiles a very small smile before leaving in the same quiet way he arrived. 

“Is that another—“

“Yes.”

“Why mugs?”

“Who knows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and I came up with some scarftain fan kids so...here’s Wally.


	9. All people

The bowl in Jennifer’s lap is half vinegar, half lukewarm water, and entirely uncomfortable to have applied. The pirate in green is trying very hard not to show how much it stings, although he keeps curling and uncurling his fingers in the hem of his shirt.

“Do you like looking after all people, or is it just me?”

He asks, more than hoping his teasing tone covers up the sincerity of the statement. Jennifer puts her tongue between her teeth. 

“All people, really,”

She keeps wetting the washcloth in her hands and wringing it out with a practised sort of precision, because knowing that you shouldn’t let dirt get into cuts seems to be the extent of knowledge required to become the Briny Rose’s resident nurse.

“But especially you.”

There’s a smile on her face as she says it, as though trying to hold back a laugh. Perhaps she’s joking, but he can’t be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two, y'know?


	10. Groundhog Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First crack at a dialogue only fic

“Captain! Good morning, I cou—“

“Morning. Tell me something about yourself, Number Two.”

“Sir?”

“What do you like, Number Two? I’m curious.”

“Captain, I don’t—“

“Anything. Food, music, treasure. Anything at all.”

“Oh, it...I don’t...know.”

“It could be about Brighton again.”

“It—don’t laugh, because I know you will, sir,”

“I won’t. Please tell me.”

“I used to study English poetry.”

“...Love is not love which alters it when alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.”

“You...know—you know sonnet one hundred and sixteen?” 

“Everyone knows that one! But I find it so beautiful...do you like rock, Number Two?”

“I—yes, but I—“

“Would you like some? It’s strawberry.”

“That’s my favourite...yes, please, I would.”

“You’re very pretty when you smile.”

“Captain?”

“It’s like all the threads of colour in your iris light up, like little cannon fuses.”

_“Captain?”_

“Will you come and talk to me later? In the galley, at dinner?” 

“If—if you want me to, sir.”

“Good. Don’t step on the squeaky board, it’ll fall through. I’ll see you later, at two minutes past six.”

“Captain? Captain! _Captain!”_


	11. Poetic bent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features bad poetry I wrote about Romantics! You have been warned

“Can you plunder someone’s mouth?” 

“What‘s the male equivalent of a heaving bosom? Does it remain the same?” 

“Are there any words for what I mean that don’t sound positively filthy?”

Questions like this ring out from a small space near the vicinity of the boat’s figurehead every so often throughout a particularly unremarkable Wednesday afternoon. The rest of the crew are used to the pirate with a poetic bent’s funny turns when he writes, and are more than happy to chip in with possible answers to his queries and suggestions of their own. If this is because they have nothing better to do while they sail back to Blighty, they don’t mention it.

The Captain isn’t best pleased about someone taking his place as resident novelist until he discovers that it mostly keeps the men out of trouble, save for those few who get seasick trying to read, so he quite happily leaves the crew to it as he biffs off to play darts in his office, leaving the pirate with a scarf in charge until dinner.

“Read us another bit, then!”

“Oh, very well,”

The pirate with a poetic bent shuffles his papers. A few of the men giggle excitedly until they remember where they are and give a gruff cough.

“He sweeps the young man up into his arms, claiming his lips in a passionate kiss. The dew that lingers on his eyelashes is as crystals to the fine sapphire of his eyes, heavy morning mist cloaking—“

“Sapphire’s too girly. What’s another blue gem?”

“No, I like it, leave it in. Besides, he can’t go banging on about his lover’s rich tourmaline eyes all the time, can he?”

“Wait, they’re both lads?” 

Several of the men groan at this. The pirate with a scarf comes into view, and the groan increases in volume.

“Don’t you lot have decks to scrub?”

He’s been in a similarly tetchy mood for the past fortnight, so the crew aren’t the least bit surprised.

“Done all this morning. Come help us write this! It’s topping fun.”

The pirate with a scarf scoffs. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a poet? Why don’t you try writing some poetry? Or better yet, doing some actual work aboard the boat! You know, the boat you live on?”

“My work is not limited to solely poetic pursuits, Number Two—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“It spans a great many mediums!”

A touch reluctantly, the pirate with a scarf plonks himself down on a crate next to the pirate with a peanut allergy. 

“Go on, then. Read us some more of your smut.”

“The tale I am writing is a romance with occasional mature references. Nothing you couldn’t show an elderly relative with broad horizons and friends in the theatre.” 

“Well what about your great poetry, then? If you’re named after it, it must be fairly bloody good.”

“‘The pirate with a poetic bent’ isn’t my given name, you know.”

There is another wave of giggles. The albino pirate mouths ‘It’s not?’ To the man beside him, but this does nothing to soften the pirate with a scarf, whose presence has now gone from being a fun novelty to a bit of an annoyance owing to his foul mood. 

“I will disregard your bear with a sore head attitude, however, and read to you one of my recent poems.”

“How recent? Seeing as you’ve been riding off the back of your sonnet on whale song since last March.”

“I wrote it after our last adventure.”

A good half of the deck seems to still, or at least, the men sitting there do, not the literal wooden floor of the ship. The other half that are oblivious as to why their last adventure garners such a violent reaction of total silence clam up on the off chance it’s something important.

The look on the pirate with a scarf’s face falters for a moments. Something in him seems to turn over. The pirate with a poetic bent turns to a page in the little lavender notebook now in his pale hands.

“Our gift at the end of the endless game 

Two halves of a whole that was cleft in twain

When asked what it was, we shall think the same

The love that dare not speak its name.”

The seagulls overhead refuse to caw. The waves refuse to lap or crash. The hull refuses to creak. The words of the poem hang in the air, and even though most of the crew privately think it’s a load of confusing nonsense and they’d much prefer to go back to bickering over the novella, the effect it has on the pirate with a scarf is rather startling. 

He mutters something like “What a load of tosh,” before calmly stalking away to his cabin. 

“The love that daren’t what?”

“Never mind. Look, what about Opal? It’s sort of blue in places!”


	12. Cannon balls

Jennifer scurries into one of the little cupboards on board as quickly as she can while her entire body protests most strongly to the movement. Maybe it’s just her hormones playing up, but the thought of getting caught with this makes her want to either burst into tears or curl up in a ball. Maybe both.

Between stress and excitement and a generally disturbed schedule, she’d sort of forgotten about this more unpleasant aspect of life, and now her negligence seems to be coming back to bite her in the bustle. She hadn’t expected it to come at the start of the month, and now she’s stuck in some tiny dark room on a pokey little boat trying to soak blood out of her underpants in secret. She doesn’t want anyone else to know, because they’ve only just gotten used to having a girl on board, and this might be the thing that finally causes them to dump her off on some island somewhere. 

She’s so caught up in trying to work in the dark that she doesn’t quite realise someone’s behind her until it’s too late.

“Is that blood?”

It’s the pirate with a scarf, she recognises his voice. He doesn’t sound angry or disgusted or shocked. Just normal. 

“...Yeah. It’s...yeah, you know.” 

Jennifer winces, draws her shoulders up to somewhere around her ears. 

“You want to put salt in a bowl and leave them in overnight. Why are you doing it in the dark, even?” 

A match is struck and the dim glow of a candle lights up the small space. 

“Did you not know it was gonna happen?”

“No. I-I didn’t...I didn’t time it. I thought...”

“Hey, you don’t need to explain to me. I just guessed because they look like shipwreck knickers.”

He puts the candle down and goes about doing something or other. Jennifer feels too stunned to pay it any attention. 

“How do...what? Why are you being so...what?”

“You’re not the only person on board who it happens to, you know, so you’re in good company. I’m just glad it doesn’t make you sick. I always feel so sorry for those lads when they’re nauseous. I’m sure it’s no fun.” 

“You mean—“

“Issac keeps table salt in here somewhere. The Captain swears by lemon juice, but that only seems to work on his silk shirts, and even then it’s sort of rubbish. Shift over a bit and I’ll look.”

Jennifer feels an awful lot like she wants to cry again, but this time she has an actual reason that isn’t to do with the colour of her curtains or the shape of a cloud. 

“You’re not upset, are you?”

“No, I...I was so worried you were going to...I don’t know, sling me off or something.”

“Don’t be daft! You’re the only person on this boat I can have a sensible bloody word with, even if you are throwing a wobbly. Go on, go and sort yourself out and get a bit of cake or something. I can do this.”

“It’s ok, I can finish it.”

“I know you can, but I’m told standing too long or shifting about is an absolute pain.”

The pirate with a scarf’s expression shifts a little.

“What’s it like for you? I mean, if you don’t mind telling me.”

“Like there’s cannon balls in my boobs.”

“Ow. Well, go on, clear off and tell the lads, I think it might be the only thing like that they actually have a clue about. You could swing this to your advantage, Jen. The Captain might let you pick dessert tonight.”


End file.
